Somewhere else, milk is made out of whiskers, cats pet people, but this also happens here. You are dreaming about me. Are they nightmares of touches of improper dreams? The Earth has to be the sky, yes, Heaven or the Seraglio must be here, or maybe they are there. Somewhere else, music composes Bach or perhaps decomposes him in Sol keys. The air breathes in people, poems write each other, the absinth drinks Van Gogh, open-mouthed walls scream at us and we are stupid. Here. Maybe not there.
(Translated by Bianca-Andreea Rîmboacă / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In June 2022, the group has 8,500 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, and Luchian Abel. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale. 
